Reflections Beyond the Mirror
by AerithReborn
Summary: (unfinished)(R for languageviolence) Gifts of second chances are rare and precious. A lost survivor of the War of Wutai and a wandering man in a white coat struggle to find their place in the world they left behind.
1. Reflections Prolouge

The darkness was enough to make her lose her mind, but the lights seemed infinitely worse every time they returned. Long periods of darkness led her into delirious fantasies of a world beyond just the light and dark. Visions somewhere between memory and dream- realms of laughter and song haunted her tormented mind. Never was this light more dangerous and destructive than during these times. The twin stars would hover over her prone body, arms spread-eagled to welcome the void yet unable to block the terrible glare. Sometimes the light would descend above her face, inky strands coldly brushing her lips and cheeks. Probing, poking fingers explored every inch of her body. Searching, searching toward an unknown goal. Stabbing needles pierced her arm on countless times. This time, however, the pain of draining accompanied the ritual. The vivid chartreuse light barely touched the darkness, throwing black shadows against the sickly charcoal walls. This light frightened her even more than the stars did, knowing that this light throbbed in time with her heart. The feverish pulse illuminated serpentine tendrils posed inches from her face, some weighing down her legs.   
  
An image of a young child stood next to her head, eyes green as oak leaves in the summer. They gave her face wisdom enough for someone who has known much of life, much more than the age suggested. A sad smile touched her lips, and yet encouraged the other. A spirit broken for many years gained enough strength for her to fight. The black serpents fell off her legs, flailing about and sending glass shattering everywhere. She continued to struggle, thrashing her head about against the chain binding her to the surface. The ones around her wrists gave as much as the collar.  
  
Soon her energy ran out, the light pulsing much slower than before. The girl with the wise eyes was gone, as was her spirit. She glanced over the darkness now littered with tiny green stars. The two largest huddled in a corner, yet their unblinking guard never ceased. She cried then, bitter tears sparkling like the other lights. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the watching stars. The faint rasp of breath near her outstretched palm caused her to open her eyes with a start. Her steel grey eyes met his, brilliant emeralds lit with an inner fire. They drowsily blinked and focused on her, unshielded like a child's. Two stars even more brilliant than the others, brighter than even her imaginings. She screamed then, terrified of the horrors that this light could bring. 


	2. Reflections Sphere 10

The forest was the same as the previous year, as was the ruins of a city. The conch buildings remained in tact even in their degradation back to the Planet. That was how the Others had planned it. The cycle of life had to be completed with buildings as with animals, life and death in a balance never to be tipped,even if it once had, it was righted within the same faltering breath. The autumnal winds brought the same unknown voices through the city, voices of the long deceased Cetra whispering their secrets into ears listening for them. Sadly, that was the reason for the two travelers' journey. The last one who had been searching for those ancient answers died for her knowledge; she was sacrificed on an altar to a self-proclaimed god by this god's messenger. The mournful song wound its way through the streets to the ears of one familiar with their eerie chorus. He had watched the lamb's body fall to the ground at the feet of the fallen angel. He had watched the salvation of the Planet fall to the bottom of the underground lake. He watched it all, strings binding him as sure as the blood coursing through his veins bound him to the puppetmaster.  
  
"Cloud?" the woman at his side said, "are you sure you want to do this?" For her, the pain was still too fresh, possibly to be a wound in her heart forever. Her friend, quite possibly her closest despite the short time they knew each other, had fallen. The blonde man next to her had nearly lost his mind here, torn between his anger and a force stronger and than any of them had anticipated. The unfairness of that time, helplessness to stop the events as they had unfolded before her eyes was bitter medicine for human pride, her pride. She closed chestnut eyes and held the flowers close to her body.  
  
Cloud raked his fingers through his spiked hair, and looked around uncomfortably, clearly remembering the unspoken truths. "A year of waiting hasn't put her to rest, Tifa. It's time to let her go." And it would numb the pain, he thought. He hitched his jacket up against the wind tickling the back of his neck. The sun would be setting soon and he wanted to be inside shelter for the night. He started toward what had served as an inn that year before blinking away the vivid memory of a man dressed in black walking the same path. Why was he returning to Cloud's memory so readily? He had destroyed him more times than any one man deserved including the silver-haired phantom in his mind. But why did he still worry him? He reached over his shoulder and fingered the inscription of a meteor etched on his sword. He had a matching one on his belt, marking him as part of Avalanche for the world to know. He rarely wore that belt in public anymore.  
  
The door opened shakily like the last time and the two moved inside. They set their bags next to the threshold, in front of the mirror showing shadowy images of the dead. They ignored the dizzying depths and surveyed the room. Thick dust marred every surface; a thinner layer marked ghostly footprints a year old. No other life had been inside this room for about two thousand years. They took their bedrolls out and laid them on the floor. It seemed awkward to sleep on the beds upstairs, even if they had before. Cloud leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. "Let's hope this visit isn't so unpleasant."  
  
The girl nodded and picked up the flowers, oddly vivid colors in the faded room. "We won't stay long. We still have the living to care for." Cloud's blue eyes flashed in agreement, but he remained silent as he walked out the door. Tifa followed in the same silence and into the vivid sunset painting the sky a fiery red. The surrounding cliffs blocked most of the light, but the giant building ahead of them stood out against the shadows. They made their way through the tunnel, lost in memories. For a moment, Cloud seemed ready to take off running down the dark path. After a couple steps he shook his head and slowed. His quiet chuckle echoed a much sadder feeling in his heart. The reason for his haste had died back then. His frustration grew at his inability to repair his first mistake.  
  
The cavern opened up into a forest nestled beyond the large shell. A smaller one sat at the edge of a lake, housing an even greater secret than the Forgotten City itself. Their attention barely focused on the building, but on the lake itself. The first stars of the evening reflected in the calm waters, twinkling on the small waves. The two walked over to the edge and tossed the flowers in: red, orange, and yellow zinnia petals riding the ripples to the shore. They watched them slowly sink into the dark water.  
  
The blonde man chuckled to himself, a slight smile crossing his saddened face. "Remember when we were trying to catch our first Chocobo? You know, the one near the swamps," Cloud started, eager to break the mournful silence.  
  
"Yes. The time that you couldn't keep quiet for five minutes." A smile, barely shy of a grimace, broke out on Tifa's face in remembrance.  
  
He put on the usual mock-insulted tone, but his heart was not in it. "Hey, I'm allergic to those stupid Mandragora. You'd be sneezing, too, if you had them dancing around you all the time, Tifa."  
  
She laughed quietly. "I'm sure I would." Her chuckle melted away quickly. "But no matter how many times we scared them off, she would just keep smiling until the next one showed up."  
  
Their eyes drifted back to the mirror like pool, lost in thought for a moment about that time. Cloud stood, eyeing the indigo sky still touched violet near the horizon. "The sun's almost set; it's time to go." He held out his hand to Tifa, who grasped it and joined him. She shivered slightly and wiped moist tears from her dark eyes. The man put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly and began to move towards the exit.  
  
The sound of raspy breaths marked by staccato coughs made the two turn around. At the sight of a girl curled up at the edge of the lake, they came running with concern painted plainly on their faces. Tiny petals the colors of fire intertwined in her raven tresses and scattered across her body. As Cloud sat her upright, Tifa gently brushed the strands out of her face. "Come on, get it all out," the man urged quietly as the stranger coughed up more water from her lungs. To Tifa he said, "Hold her a moment, let her rest," as he took off his long jacket and draped it over her nude body. After the girl caught her breath well enough to breathe steadily for a moment, she opened her silver eyes.  
  
The Stars! When she met the brilliant cyan eyes softly glowing on her, she screamed and wrestled her way away from the couple. Her feeble attempt to stand proved unfruitful as legs unused to supporting her weight gave under her. Chains clinked together as she fell to the sandy soil. The girl whimpered partly in self-frustration but more for the fear of the blue eyed man cautiously walking towards her.  
  
"Tifa, give me a hand here," he said over his shoulder to his companion. She nodded and sprinted around to in front of the girl. When he attempted to reach out to the younger girl, her eyes grew wide and panicked. She spun around and feverishly struggled with the shifting sand and into the waiting snare of Tifa's arms.  
  
"Shhh, honey. It's all right," she said to the struggling child. The girl looked into Tifa's dark eyes and relaxed a little. When Cloud's boot scuffed nearby, she clung to the older girl's neck, trembling at the sight of the vibrant eyes. The woman stroked the girl's hair gently before touching a pressure point, effectively sedating her for a while. "Forgive me."  
  
Cloud wrapped his jacket around the girl a little more tightly then rubbed his bare arms. The wind had picked up in an already cold area, promising an early snow. He lifted the girl and nodded to Tifa. They began their trek in the dark back to the village.  
  
***  
  
"What do you mean, 'Aerith Reborn?'" Tifa asked incredulously. "There hasn't been enough time for her to be reborn."  
  
Cloud shook his head, eyes bright with excitement. "Not really reborn. I mean Lifestream has given us another chance. Don't you see? She can be saved!"  
  
His companion glanced at the girl on the bed draped with her purple blanket. If not for her still strained breathing, the pale form could have been mistaken dead with her pallid skin. The woman turned back to Cloud. "We can protect her, but get it through your pointy head that Aerith died. We both saw it happen. We laid her to rest a year ago. That's why we came here in the first place."  
  
"But here is exactly where she came from!" A conviction near madness deformed his features. He walked over to the bed, brought out one of the girl's arms, and began fiddling with the metal band. "She needs these off."  
  
In frustration, Tifa grabbed the back of his shirt and spun him around to face her. "We've been around in circles about this. She's probably some lost girl, dropped off in the forest and was forgotten. More than likely because she's crazy." When he tried to turn back to the girl, she pinned him up against the wall. "Listen, Cloud. I care about you. The last time I let your imagination run off with you, I had to jump into the fire to get you out. If we have a second chance at anything, it's to keep you from misleading yourself again." The man nodded slightly and she released him.  
  
He looked at her sullenly and a bit skeptically. "Who else is she, if she's not Aerith?"  
  
"Wutaian, as far as I can tell, and she's not much older than seventeen." She shrugged and looked away. "That's all I can tell you."  
  
The sound of clinking links brought their attention back to the girl on the bed. "Well, whatever. She still needs those chains off." Cloud took the unconscious girl's wrist and kneeled down to look at it. A puzzled look crossed his face as he inspected the metal band. After a moment, he dropped her hand and frantically searched the collar. It proved to be identical to the shackles. "My god," he breathed.  
  
The other leaned close to her companion. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"They're solid. I can't take them off."  
  
"How did they get on, then? There has to be a latch." Tifa quickly looked over the silver bands. Upon finding no seam, she stared at horror at the chains. "Whoever had her didn't want her getting away." She sat back on the other bed. "Who are you, child?" she mused.  
  
Cloud turned to the woman. "We need to take her to a doctor." Concern plainly shone in his eyes. "She can't be helped here. Then maybe we can find where she belongs."  
  
"You're not planning on returning her to the beast that chained her!"  
  
"No. I mean to her family." He wrapped the blanket tightly around the girl and picked her up. "And I mean to leave tonight."  
  
Tifa had already begun to roll their bedding up and threw it onto her back. "I've got your stuff, Cloud. Just worry about the girl." She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and jumped down the ladder. The man shook his head fondly, knowing very well that they both understood each other. He followed her down to the bottom floor.  
  
Outside, the two black Chocobo warked gently and raised their heads. Tifa loaded one with their supplies and mounted while Cloud draped the raven-haired girl over the other. Taking the reins, he began to lead them out of the forest in the direction of their home. 


	3. Reflections Sphere 9a

Awareness flooded his senses; a millennia of sleep burst in a bubble around him. He slowly opened his eyes, pupils dilated to take in the diffused light of the cavern. His limbs moved stiffly as he stood. Tendrils of silver hair hung in his face and down his back. The man flexed fingers unused to movement and surveyed his surroundings. Milky white metal spiderwebbed across the walls to the distant ceiling. The path at his feet ran to a small opening on the far side of the cave, its distance obscured in the darkness. A discarded white object carelessly tossed into a corner seemed to glow in the contrasting darkness. The man bent over to pick it up and wrapped it around his muscular form. The coat draped nearly to his knees. He pulled his hair from beneath the collar and buttoned up the front. The man examined the blue pen in his pocket, strange and familiar at the same time.  
  
  
  
Softly, he padded down the path and into the other corridor, musing to himself, I've been here before. Once, long ago. His fingers brushed the wall as he studied the shining metal veins. There had been people here, years ago, in this abandoned cavern. Thick gouges scared the walls, any evidence of virgin ore stripped away by men for the mountain's bounty and then they left for more fertile grounds. The man looked away from the rock and toward the distant sound of wind, moaning in the dark. He continued, reveling in the new sounds comfortable in his ears. As if in a dream, the man found his way through the labrynthine passage. At each fork he paused, mentally reciting the different paths and what dangers they contained. He had no fear, even with the certainty of the violent creatures residing here. There had never been any time that he had felt anything other than confidence, almost arrogance, of his abilities. Nothing could hurt him. But something did. Before. A vision of darkness, blood and a blinding blue rushed into his memory. He stumbled into the wall, collecting his frayed nerves. The man wiped sweat from his brow, feeling it between his fingers, examining it. What is this feeling? Is it ...fear? He thought a moment longer, storing this new sensation in his memory. Even in all this backwards knowledge in his memory, fear still remained an enigma.  
  
He raised his head to the turn in the path, the sound of the wind rising in a crescendo. The last few meters passed swiftly as he turned the corner. Stepping out of the shadow, he raised his hand to shield himself from the blinding light. A shock of cold air caressed his bare ankles and unprotected face. Eyes narrowed and pupils slit in the unaccostomed daylight, he examined his new surroundings. Marshes stretched across to the horizon and mountains raised their dark sides to him. A bare trunk of a tree stood to his left, lengths of bleached bone surrounding the withered roots. The skull of the fabulous beast rested near him, green moss beginning to claim the exposed surface. And what are you? he thought. Bending over, he gently brushed a bit of the lichen away and rested his palm on the smooth surface.  
  
Silver blade flashing furiously in the dawn, the silver-haired man struck the serpent, slicing at its remaining eye and blinding it. It hefted its bleeding body to the sky and screamed defiance to the man in black. Flashes of intense fire and wind swirled around him in a violent cyclone. He smirked at the beast's endevor and calmly raised his hand to the sky. The green gem he cupped in his gloved hand glowed brightly. His eyes, calm yet brilliant as the orb, centered on the spinning flames as he whispered, "Reflect." The whirling inferno fell away from the man and collapsed in upon the snake.   
  
With the passing breeze through the marshes, the last of the flames died away. The man sheathed his sword and lashed it to his back. He folded his arms across broad chest and looked at the creature with disgust. The Zolom breathed shallowly, barely clinging to life. The man hefted it over his shoulder and dragged it across the marshes. The only tree stood near the cavern's mouth, branches already broken from fierce storms. He laughed, impaling the dieing animal on the spearpoint trunk. Its blood oozed down the smooth bark and pooled around the charred body.  
  
He stepped away from the skull, panting and covered with sweat. He had been that man for a moment. The assurance in his abilities that he felt in the cavern carried into the battle, or maybe was the strength from then? Even an echo of contempt shadowed a corner of his mind. He shook his head and looked over the marshes, knowing that was the only way to go. Perhaps his sudden appearance in this place would be answered. The far horizon beckoned him to come and learn what was beyond her lines. He started off on the muddy path created by the long absent miners. Again he felt as though he had crossed these waters in a long distant memory, and the vision of the Zolom raised its hooded head in a ghostly challenge in his mind. He huddled against the cool wind blowing his shimmering hair into a banner announcing his return to unfamiliar lands.  
  
The sun began to sink behind the mountains a few hours later. His walk had been uneventful at best; nothing more than the wind stirred the reeds and grasses. The man turned the collar of his coat up against the breeze and began looking for a relatively dry place to rest for the night. Twilight darkened the skies before he found any such place, a campfire a becon in the dim light. Hesitantly, he approached the fire. A grisled old man sat smoking his pipe and watching his kettle gently bubble on the flame. A dark bird stood near a cart, contentedly munching on the grasses. The man looked up at the silver-haired one and smiled. "Hey, son! Why don't you join me? It's cold and lonely in the marshes at night. I know, I've been traversing them for decades."  
  
He nodded gratefully and took a seat across the flames from the old man. Silence stretched over the few minutes he took warming his cold fingers and wet feet. When it was clear that the younger man had no interest in starting a conversation, the other cleared his throat and began one himself. "So, what are you doing out here?" His eyes passed over the white coat. "You a scientist, Mister --?"  
  
"No, I am not," he replied. Of all the questions he had of himself, he knew that one. The very idea repulsed him. "I am trying to get to Junon, sir." Junon? Is that where I'm going? Where is that?  
  
The old man laughed. "Name's Ward. Don't call me 'sir' like one of those boys fresh back from the army." He stuck his pipe back in his mouth around a smile. He reached over and stirred the pot before settling back. Still chuckling, he murmured above the crackling of the fire, "Junon's the other way, son." His jovial face turned back to his companion. "Am I going to call you 'son' all night, or do you have a name?"  
  
He cleared his throat and looked away from the old man. "That is why I am going to Junon. Hopefully I can find some answers there."  
  
"And some shoes, too." Ward looked at the other. "Junon's as good a place as any for one of ShinRa's boys. If there's anything I can tell you is that you were part of that creepy Soldier army. Your eyes tell that much. I'm not surprised you have no memory. Those experiments with Mako were weird." He grabbed the metal dish and spooned some of the food from the pot. "Meager helpings tonight, I'm afraid. I wasn't exactly expecting company out here." He handed over the plate and began eating from the pot.  
  
The other man mused over that last bit of information, about the army. Would they know who I am? They must if I was there. Maybe they have some files tucked away. He stirred the last bit of rice and beans around the bottom of the plate. Is someone looking for me? He placed the empty dish to the side and looked up in time to see a rolled blanket inches in front of his face. He snatched it out of the air with barely a thought.  
  
Ward looked at the other with a vaguely impressed. "You must've been fairly high ranking with them reflexes. I was afraid it would hit you. I should've told you it was coming, but still." He scratched his neck and unrolled his own blanket. "Sleep well, boy. We'll be up with the sun in the morning."  
  
Dawn came on swift wings to the travelers,yet they were packed before the sun touched the peaks. The cart carried them across the marshes toward the western ridges. "The path we take is small, but ol' Blackie and I have taken it so many times we could walk it in our sleep. Isn't that right?" he said earlier, patting the chocobo's shoulder. Largely they rode in silence, speaking bits of nonsense here and there, but the young man had little to say and much to think about. He watched the changeless scenery pass by him, lured by the gentle warbling and rhythmic footsteps of the chocobo into a daydream.  
  
The rough edge of the crate dug into the backs of his legs, but he ignored them just as he did the vibrations of the truck. Lightning flashed through the windshield up front and the wipers barely cleared the rain before another sheet covered it. His comrades reclined on similar boxes. One man paced around the truck, talking to everyone and stretching from time to time. His unruly dark hair spiked in all directions before trailing down his back. He adjusted his belt and tapped the emblem with his finger. A pothole in the old road nearly threw them across the back, and one of the soldiers curled further into himself. The dark haired Soldier looked out the back window for a moment, the longest time he had been still the whole trip.  
  
"It sure is raining hard," he murmured to himself. His hands twitched in familiar motions of his fighting style, as though imagining fighting in this weather. He turned to the man sitting near him, arms wrapped around his knees. "Hey, how are you doing?"  
  
The guard waved him off and curled a little tighter. "I'm all right."  
  
"Hey, Cloud. If you're feeling sick, why don't you take that mask off," the dark Soldier said as he kneeled next to him.  
  
Cloud unlatched the massive helmet and rested it on the floor. He mumbled something affirmitave and took a calming breath. His face looked pastey white and dark circles rested under blue eyes; his blonde hair unusually limp from sweat. He winced at every lurch of the truck and slouched lower to the floor.  
  
The Soldier looked at Cloud pityingly and shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never had motion sickness." He walked to the other guard and checked up on him, too. He smiled incouragingly to him and wandered around a bit.  
  
The man in black glanced at the restless Soldier with a half smile. "Hey, Zack, settle down."  
  
Zack turned to his friend and began stretching again. "They gave me new Materia, man! I can't wait to use it."  
  
He chuckled a bit. "...just like a kid."  
  
Mock insult masked Zack's face for a moment before his seemingly ever present grin resurfaced. "You going to brief us about this mission before we all get our asses whooped out there?"  
  
"This isn't a typical mission," he said after a pause.  
  
The Soldier's grin turned crooked. "Good."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Zack walked back to the window, watching the path receed behind them. "It's almost insulting what ShinRa sends us out to do, anymore. Rebels waving pitchforks around aren't exactly what I call a job, you know? I mean since the war, we've been the damned clean up team for the President. Not that Wutai was ideal. I never want to see that again." He watched the rain for a moment. "Those poor kids. How many families did we tear apart, man? Sometimes I wonder about it, whether what we did was right." He turned to the silver haired man. "Say, how do you feel about it, General?"  
  
He looked away from the other, watching the two guards. "I thought you wanted a briefing?"  
  
Abashed at himself, Zack scratched his head and leaned on the side of the truck. He grimaced at his loose tounge around the minor soldiers.  
  
Taking a deep breath, the General began, "Our mission is to investigate an old Mako reactor. There have been reports of it malfunctioning, and producing brutal creatures. First, we will dispose of those creatures. Then, we'll locate the problem and neutralize it." The Soldier tapped his foot idly in thought.  
  
The blonde guard looked up. "Brutal creatures? Where?" he asked hesitantly, as though dreading the answer.  
  
"The Mako Reactor at Nibelheim," the dark coated man replied.  
  
Cloud turned away and inspected his booted feet. "Nibelheim...." He released the breath he had been holding. "That's where I'm from."  
  
The General nodded. He closed his eyes and mused for a moment. "Hmm... hometown...."  
  
There was a great crash of the cart, knocking the old man and traveler into the saturated muck. The chocobo screeched as it flew through the air, still fastened to the vehicle. Leaping to his feet, the silver haired man looked around for the attacker. Emerging from the marshes came a large serpent, eyes a fierce red and locked onto the man. A murderous hiss escaped its throat as it raised itself from the water.  
  
I know you, Zolom. You're not as tough as you look. The man instinctively reached above his shoulder to find it vacant. He blinked and shook his head. Letting your imagination take control? You're not him. The sobering thought brought him from the euphoric feeling of invincibility that had taken control of his features. He wiped the cruel smile from his face, wondering where it came from and why it felt so comfortable in place, and circled the creature warily. Its first strike came suddenly and it was all he could do to leap out of the way. He focused all his thoughts on the snake's movements, the gentle ripple of muscle as it turned its head to the sun glinting off of metal-hard scales. With the next lightning fast strike, he wrapped his arms around the base of the creature's head. They tumbled around in the muck, the man held on as it shook its head to rid itself of the unwanted passenger. His feet dangled in the air when the Zolom reared up with a scream. He shifted his weight at the serpent's next movement, bringing himself back to the ground.   
  
One mighty lurch of its head brought it out of the man's iron grasp. He panted and thought wildly about how to stop this monster. A flurry of attacks pounded the man even as he countered each with his bare fists. However awkward it felt to him, he still was able to keep most of the fatal moves from himself. Still, it was impossible to prevent all attacks from landing. Soon his own blood was smeared across his face and stained on the white coat. Rolling from his last bare escape, he realized that the cart lay nearby. He tried to ignore the panicked screams from the bird as he reached inside the bed. His fingers closed on an object and he threw it at the creature's head. The pot from the previous night landed squarely between its eyes, leaving it dazed for a few moments. The man rooted around a bit more, brushing away blankets and other such useless items. Suddenly, a familiar shape found its way into his palm. He withdrew the knife from the cart and balanced it confidently in his hand. With renewed vigor, he charged the creature. Every stroke he made against the serpent drew dark blood on its scales.  
  
In a desperate attempt to finish the battle, the Zolom rushed the man. Sparks of fire and wind errupted around the two, but the spell could not be completed as the man embedded the knife deep into its skull. It crashed to the water, its blood mixing into the wet mud. The man bent to the creature and yanked the knife free. All in all, it was a terrible visage: his silver hair stained crimson, drifting in the wind like a stained wing and his formerly white coat splattered with blood and earth. He looked at the man who had been tossed so effortlessly to the side. "Ward, how much do you think I could get for this?" He vaguely remembered a bounty on the head of any Zolom, but whether from his mind or the man from the vision.  
  
The old man's eyes flickered between the creature and the traveler, wondering which he should fear more. "I-I'd say a couple hundred, for one that size."  
  
Sure enough, upon inspection, this serpent was smaller than the fabled Midgar Zolom, the one he was sure was from his vision. But just as fierce.  
  
"The way you handled that, you could've rivaled the General."  
  
The traveler stood from retrieving the knife's sheath, eeys widened in shock, reconizing the title. "What can you tell me of this General?"  
  
You must really not remember much if you don't know who ShinRa's General is. Was, I should say. He was last heard of six years ago, not counting the rumors of the man wandering the Planet last year. Fantastic warrior, I heard. He gained the rank of General sometime in his twenties, or so the reports said, during the War. He went to Nibelheim on his last expidition. ShinRa never really explained what happened, but the rumor was that he went mad, killed everybody, and razed the town to the ground. Impossible, of course. Nibelheim still stands as it always has. Anyway, in this supposed madness he fell into the Mako pit and died. I say he was killed by one of their dragons, but that's just me."  
  
The General was going to Nibelheim, the man thought, so Zack said. He grimaced at himself. Not that those visions mean anything, whatever they are. He walked over to the ruined cart. The frightened chocobo continued to whimper from the past experience. Gently, the man stroked the bird's head, calming it. Ward muttered angrily at the broken wheels and splintered sides. "Well, that's it, I guess. I'm going home." He reached into the cart and took out the blankets and his pipe. "Take this and the bird. Blackie can find his way home, but you can keep the blanket. I've got an old friend near here that I can stay with."  
  
"Will you be all right?"  
  
"Yeah. Zoloms aren't that common, kid. My friend's just a few miles away. I'll reach it by sundown." He raised his pipe in a salute. "Take care, young General." Ward chuckled at his joke as he turned away and made his way through the half-formed paths in the water.   
  
The silver haired man watched the other until he was hidden by the tall grasses and reeds. He sighed and began dismantling the cart. Once he had a relatively flat surface, he began skinning the serpent. The sun sank twice its heighth in the sky before a length of skin and the head rested securely on the makeshift sled. He mounted the chocobo easily, even though he could not recall riding the animals any time before. With the western mountains ahead of him, he heeled the bird into an easy run toward the port city of Junon.  
  
*** 


	4. Reflections Sphere 9b

Tifa jumped at the sound of the opening door. She glanced at her watch irritatedly then wiped the sweat from her brow. "I'm sorry, we're closed," she said as she returned to her work.  
  
"Do you think I give a damn about your hours, Tifa?" The man took a seat at one of the stools at the bar. He lit his cigarette and took a drag.   
  
She looked up for a moment. "Oh. Hi, Cid. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I should ask you the same thing, Miss We'll-be-Gone-for-a-Week-or-Two. I was under the impression that I wouldn't get a damned drink until next week." He half grinned at her. "Did you and Cloud have an argument or something?"  
  
The woman stood up and wiped her hands off nervously. "Something like that. It was very odd going back, is all. Too many ghosts, you understand. And besides-" The sound of a slamming door from the back of the building preceeded a frustrated Cloud ripping dark sunglasses from his face.  
  
"'Wear these. Maybe they'll help,'" he mocked. "I swear if that girl ever looks at my eyes like everybody else on the Planet, I'll never complain about Soldier again." He laughed at the thought. "Tifa, you might want to remember that. I'll even let you kick me if I do." He looked at the woman who was madly willing him to shut up. At a slight toss of her head to the man eyeing him through the cloud of smoke around his head. Cloud grimaced. "Hey there, Cid. When did you get here?"  
  
Cid eyed the end of his cigarette before smashing it in the ashtray. "Oh, I'd say about ghosts and sunglasses." He looked up at the two. "And about 'that girl' that I haven't heard a friggin' word about."  
  
Throwing one last glare at Cloud with the intention of a good talking to later, Tifa threw the towel over her shoulder and began rearranging the already tidy glasses. "It's nothing."  
  
"Like hell it's nothing!" the man said as he slammed his fist on the bar. "If you can't tell a damned friend your little secret, then how about you tell the Captain your story." He rested his chin on folded hands expectantly, pulling the full weight of his position in the town.  
  
Tifa sighed resignedly and brought out a couple beers and motioned for the two to follow her to a table. "I guess I'd rather tell it to a friend than the Captain, but either way." She shrugged as they each took a seat around the table. "There really were too many ghosts there. You see, there's too many memories there. You wouldn't know, you didn't go there. When we were leaving Aerith's lake, someone washed ashore covered in our flowers' petals."  
  
"You see, she's Aerith Reborn, right? I keep telling Tifa that, but she won't listen," Cloud said urgently to Cid. "You believe me, right?"  
  
"Cloud, I'm gonna slug you later." Tifa cleared her throat after the interruption and continued. "This Wutaian girl washed up wearing nothing but a metal collar, shackles, and chains. The wierdest thing is that she freaks out anytime Cloud gets near her."  
  
"Hence the sunglasses," he said as he put them back on and leaned back onto two legs of his chair.  
  
"That and any sort of light we bring in. We have to go to her in near complete darkness. Right now, she's in a closet because she hates windows. Anyway, before we brought her here we tried to take off the shackles. You won't believe this, but there are no joints, no seams, nothing." She idly sketched a few doodles on the table with the sweat off the bottles.  
  
Cloud looked up. "You're good with mechanical stuff, maybe you could take a peek, Cid."  
  
He took a drag on the cigarette and kicked Cloud's off balance chair over. He laughed and stood.   
  
"I guess so. Where is she?"  
  
"In back, in the house." Tifa motioned to the back as she tried to hide a smile behind her hand. She reached down to help a silently cursing Cloud to his feet. She turned off the lights to the front and unlocked the latch to the rest of the building. Passing by a table, she grabbed one of the remaining Materia from their collection. She motioned for the men to stay behind for a moment before opening the closet door. Grey eyes raised to meet hers panickedly before releaxing into a form of trust. Regardless, she tightened the grip on Tifa's purple blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The woman held a finger to her lips and palmed the green orb. "Sleep, child. We can't have you hurt yourself." The gentle mists from the spell intertwined themselves around the dark haired girl's head and made her eyes heavy. "Goodnight."  
  
She found herself in the twilight darkness that began each of her visions. She expected the radiant light as it warmed her features. She stepped out of the house into the morning sun. The pack on her small back swung lightly as she walked down the street to her school. Her mother, already at work, had been supporting the family since the girl's father joined the battle against ShinRa. But the girl gave this little thought. The distant gunfire could be as easliy another gang shooting as it could be the war itself.  
  
"Hey! Rashell!" The boy called her name as he came running up another street. She turned to face him as he came up.   
  
She giggled a bit at her schoolyard crush when he tripped on the uneven sidewalk. "Hi, Daniel. Did you get your homework done? Mrs. Furuya will be upset if you don't have it again."  
  
Daniel laughed at her for a moment. "No way! Mom got me the new Sephiroth action figure! I spent all afternoon playing with Joey."  
  
"So you played the ShinRa?!" Rashell asked him incredulously.  
  
"Yeah! He's way cooler than any of the guys we've got!"  
  
"But what about my dad?"  
  
"Nah. The General's way cooler!"  
  
"Nuh uh!" The girl aimed a punch at Daniel's head, which he dodged and sent her regaining her balance a couple feet behind him. He made a face and they ran the rest of the way to the school, laughing by the time they entered the gate and forgetting the reason she was chasing him to begin with. Rashell and her friend entered the darker building with smiles plastered on like the stray strands of dark hair on their faces.  
  
The familiar scene faded into the twilight the same way it had opened. The dreamer cried inwardly at its passage, believing that she would soon wake to pain and stars. Instead, the darkness slowly deepened until tiny lights scattered the sky. She was not afraid of these peaceful celestial gems. As she watched them, the brightest one dissolved the darkness in her mind. She did not fear this light, either. A silouette slowly ghosted in front of the emination; the mist thickened until the bare outline of two girls could be seen. The elder held the hand of the other as they walked toward the dreamer. The older girl's green eyes shone from beneath a copper halo of hair as she smiled. Dreamer looked at the younger girl, recognizing the slate eyes and black hair from her visions. They released each other's hands and the dark haired one walked toward the dreamer.   
  
The older girl watched the two meet. "Rashell, help her. She cannot remember herself; she cannot remember herself," she said softly. The younger one nodded and turned back to the dreamer. She began to fade and the light shone through her and onto the other. The line between them dissolved until one became the other. The dreamer took a deep breath and looked around with eyes cleared of the madness and pain. "Now wake," the girl with green eyes said and merged with the light.  
  
Cid sat back against the hallway wall, holding his head in bewilderment. "How in the hell? I can't make heads or tails of this whole thing!" The girl was still wrapped up in the blanket, but with both arms sticking out. He had been fiddling with the bands for a couple hours without any success. "They've gotta be Mythril. I couldn't cut them off anyway! They're too damn close to her arm."  
  
Cloud looked resignedly at the pilot. "So there's nothing you can do." He sighed and looked at his watch. "Well, shit. It's late, man. I'll walk you to the door." The Captain nodded and the two walked out into the front room.  
  
"God. What are we supposed to do now?" Tifa said to herself as she kept her vigil over the sleeping form, ready to rouse her and comfort her like the other times. When the girl's grey eyes opened, she had to bite down a curse at the shock. "You're not supposed to be awake yet."  
  
The younger woman blinked slowly and looked around the hall. "Where am I?" she asked to the now speechless Tifa. 


	5. Reflections Sphere 9c

He wiped his hands on the tattered hem of the coat he wore, fighting the urge to scrub the decaying filth from tapered fingers. The skin reeked from the days in the sun since leaving the marshes. The shopkeeper raised his nose and eyed the traveler, whether in arrogance or from the smell the man knew not. "One hundred gil," he said as he sniffed.   
  
The traveler ran emerald eyes over the skins draped along the walls, tattered messes for at least twice that price. "Two hundred, sir. It is worth more than that, but I doubt you would pay."  
  
"Arrogant young bastard! I'm doing you a favor taking this mess from you. I stand at one hundred." His long nose inched higher into the air as the traveler turned back to him.  
  
The traveler pressed his lips together in annoyance and shot a glare from beneath silver strands. "If I may remind you, the bounty stands at two. I ask for nothing more than my due." They locked eyes for a moment before the shopkeeper visibly paled and looked away.  
  
He fumbled in the drawer before drawing out a slip of paper and held it out to the other. "Forgive me, sir. Two hundred gil, as advertized. Just sign on the line."  
  
The man pushed some strands out of his vision and took the pen from his pocket. He had already begun signing the strip before he hesitated, I don't remember my name. His hand did, habitually scrawling in flowing blue letters "Sephiroth". The pit of his stomach fell as he stared unseeing at the name.  
  
Intense cold permeated his flesh and encased him in a corpse-like sleep. The murmuring from below barely cast a shadow in his vivid dreams. A bare vibration shook the crystal surrounding his form, then the unintelligable whispers. And the need. He reached out with his dreaming mind for the strings spreading from the center and retrieved one. Unlike the others, this one wound faster and more willing to his call.  
  
Again quiet murmurs drifted to his ears. Soon now, very soon. The soothing cadence calmed his impatient nerves, longing to once again touch the world. The string shortened.  
  
"Sephiroth?" The voice, so sad, so hopeless. Again, almost an echo: "Sephiroth? I'm here." He sounded like a lost child. "And I've brought the Black Materia." The words seeped in self damnation touched his ears but not his frozen heart. Only the excitement of two words brought his mind out of the reverie. "Show yourself to me. Where are you?" A pause, his heart raced in anticipation, never mind the tortured voice beyond the glaring light. "Sephiroth… So we finally meet again." One final twitch of the string. The sacred Materia penetrated the crystal, barely within his grasp. His mind swept it up with relish and poured all his restless energy into the orb. The earth trembled then exploded, the warriors of the Planet, the Weapons, bursting free on a suicide attempt to save her.  
  
"Dear god! What kind of a joke is this? Who do you think you are? Claiming to be the General, punk kid." The shopkeeper threw the money across the counter to the dazed man. He blinked and numbly scooped the coins into his pocket. As he walked away, he heard the panicked mumbling of the other denying the signature on the paper.  
  
The man, "Sephiroth" he knew now, wandered the streets deep in thought and reasserting his existance in this time and not that hallucination. He sighed and walked into the nearest clothing shop. He eagerly grabbed blue denim and the first shirt, white, that his fingers grazed past. With barely a word, he tossed the gil onto the counter and stepped behind the curtain. He peeled the once-white coat from off his shoulders and threw it onto the bench. He hesitated, staring at the clean clothing and feeling immensely dirty from the road, thought about a room for the night, decided against it and threw the close fitting cotton over his head. His reflection caught his eye as he pulled the pants on. The common clothing sheathing his muscled form seemed out of place, jeans and a tee strangely casual. The silken silver locks fell in strands over his shoulders like a cloak. But none of these features stood out like his eyes. An emerald fire blazed from beneath pale brows. He mused silently how he could see through the light. His lashes were dyed chartreuse from the vivid glowing. He stepped out of the room, careful not to look anyone directly in the eye. He grabbed a pair of boots and some dark sunglasses as he left.   
  
Sephiroth walked the streets, lost in his musings and ignorant of the stares the women gave him as he passed, of which there were many. He found himself watching the sun set over the ocean, envisioning a doomed ship setting sail for the far continent. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, sure he could smell death in the air. He turned from the disturbing images and made his way back inland. Even in the descending darkness, he left the barrier over his disturbingly bright eyes. People parted in his path as they walked home, away from the shadows and blades hidden therein, but he remained oblivious. A warm glow drifted through the street with diffused laughter and cheering following in its wake. The man who adopted the name "Sephiroth" walked toward the open door.   
  
"Come on, Reno! Don't wuss out now!"  
  
"Shut up, asshole. The night's still young. Gotta pace yourself, else you won't last the evening."  
  
The man walked inside, removed the sunglasses in the dim interior, then nonchalantly stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a place near the wall to watch the fire-haired man's antics. The arrangement of liquor bottles was staggering, empty glasses stacked in haphazard pyramids. "Gentlemen, start your engines!" the man called to his fellows.  
  
"Damn, Reno, your engine has been running and gone for some time now!"  
  
He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Yeah, but I can still out drink ya, rookie." He drained the beverage and completed another level of the second pyramid. Reno raised his eyes from the wobbling structure for a moment and met the piercing glance from the man standing at the wall. The blood rushed out of his face and pooled somewhere in his feet. He dropped the glass hovering above the precarious stack. Over a dozen shotglasses tumbled to the floor, silencing the bar as well as a gunshot.  
  
"You ok, man? You look as though you've seen a ghost."  
  
He found his voice somewhere. "I have." All eyes followed the assassin's gaze to the man now alert. His hand reached instinctively for the nightstick strapped to his hip. "Dammit! How many lives do you have? You're like a fuckin' cat!"  
  
The silver-haired man gripped his own weapon, judging and balancing tactics as though this were building to a war rather than a mere bar brawl. "Who are you to be so familiar? I do not know you, nor do I care to."  
  
Reno sneered. "Just like you, arrogant prick. It's that same damn arrogance that nearly killed us all a year ago, General fucking Sephiroth." He spat and ignored the apprehensive mood permeating the air. "Never did remember the Turks, never brought your nose far enough down to notice us findin' you your Soldiers and keeping the fuckin' Company alive."  
  
Sephiroth clenched his teeth in annoyance. The words held no meaning to him. His eyes narrowed and the knife was comfortable in his grip.   
  
"Fuckin' bastard! Too good to converse with us mortals?" The alcohol glazed his eyes and mind, giving him the motivation to provoke the specter. He brought out the stick and tapped the Materia. Blue energy licked the shaft and gave his eyes a mad light. "Let's remind him that he never did become a god. And you thought that the Strife kid was the failure?" He laughed, feeding the drunks the means to release pent up energy. "He brought you down from your fucking perch."  
  
The man unsheathed the knife as the mob overwhelmed him. A haze descended around his mind as he fell into the familiar motions of melee combat. His palm drove one man's head back before he kicked three others' feet out from under them. The grey metal of his blade wove in and out of the throng, coming away red every time. He grabbed a chair from one and swung it around into the back of another's head. The ground soon became slick with their blood and they backed away. Sephiroth alone stood unscathed in the center of the room. Infuriated, Reno lept to his feet, swinging the crackling baton easily in his hand.  
  
"Asshole! Bring it!" He brought his weapon around and stared his opponent unflinchingly in the eye.  
  
"This is unnecessary." The other wiped the bloodied blade off with a discarded napkin from a nearby table. "I do not know of this Company you speak of."  
  
"Yeah? Maybe dieing fucked up your memory."  
  
Emerald eyes focused on aqua. "What do you know about it?"  
  
"Enough to know that you almost killed us all. And that's enough." His patience broke like so many shards of glass beneath his booted feet. The drunken rage fueled his steps as he lept at the silver shrouded form. Sephiroth blocked the stick with his knife and threw the Turk into a table. The cheap beer flew through the air and landed in slick puddles on the wood floor. Reno lept to his feet and swung at the other, just wanting to make contact, just once. The ex-general dodged the lightning swift thrusts and grabbed him around his arm. The red-haired man cursed loudly and slammed his elbow into Sephiroth's stomach. "Not so tough, are you, mister hotshot Soldier?" he said, slipping loose from the man's grip.  
  
"But you are not at your peak either." He landed a fist into the Turk's face. "I do not know, but I would expect that you would be better if you were sober." He spun and kicked is feet out from under him. "Now forgive me my past transgressions for just a moment." He pressed his knife to Reno's throat. "When I sort out these memories and pathetic clues I keep getting, then we can resume this. But until then, I would just like to figure some things out. What is this 'Company' you spoke of?"  
  
Dark red brows descended over aqua eyes as Reno glared daggers at his captor. "Go to Midgar and get a fucking clue. ShinRa headquarters, or did you forget that, too? Damn! Even with a halfassed memory, you're still able to beat the shit out of me." When Sephiroth released the other, the Turk murmured, "Bastard, now I have to go find another bar and forget this." He picked up his jacket, noticably tattered, and slung it over his shoulder. The man took a deep breath and seemed to collapse in upon himself. He stared at nothing for a moment, attitude melted away to reveal someone down on his luck and incredibly tired, then he plastered the devil may care mask back on and walked out of the bar.  
  
Sephiroth glanced around the room, watching the patrons turn away from his icy green glare, before he replaced the dark glasses and followed the Turk out of the building toward Midgar. 


End file.
